by Ben Bova
So he led them.
First into the nearly abandoned cities, where there were still supplies to be had. Alec avoided the feral gangs that huddled in the burned-out city buildings, and fought only when he was forced to.
The two youngsters got sick over the first killings, but soon hardened themselves. Alec traded some ammunition and Peters' rifle for fresh food and an extra horse in a village on the eastern edge of Douglas's territory. They left the village with another recruit, an older man who had lost his wife and child to sickness and wanted no more memories of them.
As they rode from that village, Alec's plan took shape. Let Kobol work his way up here by spring.
By then I'll have defenses completely mapped out.
I'll be waiting for Kobol, and I'll take command of the force that he brings here.
But he needed a radio. And he knew where to get one.
Alec waited. With new found patience he bided his time, waited out the blizzards in caves and forest shelters, recruited more men—youngsters, mostly—from the village elders would be wise to treat him fairly because the days of The Douglas' reign were numbered.
He learned the territory, mapped its folds and hills, its forests and streams, the roads, the abandoned cities, the villages. And Douglas's defenses.
A new perimeter of wire fencing was going up, he saw; teams of men digging through the snow and frozen ground on the outermost edges of his territory.
They also erected wooden watchtowers every kilometer or so, despite the bitter weather.
Douglas was not waiting for spring.
Alec located the firebases on hilltops inside the new perimeter fence. He saw scouting parties and larger armed patrols riding across the snowy countryside, but he kept a few jumps away from them. He wanted no serious fighting. Not yet.
Once he thought he recognized Will Russo at the head of a column of men on snowshoes. Alec stayed especially far from them.
The days were becoming noticeably longer when he attacked the firebase. He had to lead his men around the long way through a gap in the still-uncompleted fence and watchtower ring. It was still bitterly cold, and the sky seemed to be a constant blank of gray as Alec marched his two dozen men toward the firebase. But toward evening the Sun broke through the western clouds and Alec noticed a tiny blue flower poking its head out of the snow along a hillside brook.
He smiled to himself. Not at the flower's beauty or the promise of the sunset, but at the correctness of his timing for the attack.
They waited until well after midnight and climbed the hill to the firebase stealthily. It was laid out almost exactly like the base Alec had been in. The men clambered over the snow-packed earthen ramparts and used knives and crossbows on the defenders. Alec got to the radio before the base commander could switch it on. He shot the man twice through the chest as he clawed wildly at the console controls. Only when the commander lay twitching and bleeding to death on the floor of the radio room did Alec notice that the man was still gripping his unbelted trousers with one hand and his feet were bare.
They took no prisoners. They carefully disassembled the radio and its generator and packed them onto the firebase's own truck. They used the explosives they found there to blow up the underground dugouts and artillery pieces, leaving no evidence that they had stolen the radio.
He'd suspect, Alec knew. But they'd stay far enough from his other radio equipment so that he wouldn't be able to monitor their calls.
The truck slipped and groaned through the night, bearing the radio equipment and all of Alec's men. They got back safely outside Douglas' perimeter and then pushed on for another whole day before Alec tried to call the satellite station.
When he finally made contact, the voice that crackled in his earphones was totally incredulous.
"We thought you were dead or . . ."
"Or gone over to Douglas's side?"
"Well . . ."
"Never mind," Alec said. "Get word to Kobol that I want to see him or his representative as soon as he can get someone up here. There's much planning to do. I'll stay in touch with you at least every other day and relay instructions on where to find me."
"Yessir. I suppose you want to be patched through to the settlement, and speak to your mother?"
Without an eyeblink's hesitation, Alec answered, "No. I can't afford to keep broadcasting that long. My transmission might get picked up. Relay this message to her: Tell her that I'm fine and we'll soon have accomplished our mission."
"That's all?"
"That's everything."
Chapter 25
Kobol sent Jameson. He arrived within two weeks of Alec's first radio call.
"How did you get here so quickly?" Alec wondered.
Jameson smiled in his eagle-fierce way. "There are lots of boats down in Florida. And plenty of fuel for them, too. They make the fuel from seawater—electrolyze the hydrogen and then freeze it down to a liquid."
"I didn't know that level of technology still existed on Earth," Alec said.
"The old civilian spaceport is still there,"
Jameson explained. "Nobody bothered to bomb it."
"So there are scientists there."
"A few. Some engineers. They needed our help, though, otherwise they would've been overrun by barbarians."
"And you came by boat all this way?"
Jameson nodded tightly. "Up the old inland waterway to Delaware Bay, then up the Delaware River. Scooted past Philadelphia as fast as we could—it's still pretty radioactive. When we ran out of river we trekked overland, and here we are."
Alec and Jameson were standing on the brow of a small hill, sheltered from the wind by a stand of white-barked birches. Their limbs were still gaunt and snow still covered most of the ground. But the Sun was shining out of a perfectly blue sky and warmth was returning to the land. Alec could hear trickles of melting water running beneath the snow. Soon the streams would be rushing noisily again.
"What's Kobol doing down there?" Alec asked.
"He's putting together an army. A real army."
Jameson spread his hands outward for emphasis.
"Thousands of men. He's recruiting them from the locals. They've got four shuttles landing supplies and weapons almost every day now: lasers, trucks, heavy stuff."
"Thousands of men? Four shuttles?"
With a grim nod, Jameson answered, "The Council's decided that the only way to get the fissionables is to smash Douglas once and for all. So they're giving Kobol everything he wants. There must be more able-bodied lunar men in Florida now than there are left in the settlement."
"Everything he wants?" Alec echoed. "Kobol's not in command; I am!"
"You might find that point a little difficult to get across. The official verdict was that you were killed or captured. The rumor was that you'd joined Douglas."
"They're both wrong," Alec insisted. "I was named commander of this mission and I've never been relieved of command, no matter what Kobol says or thinks."
"He's not going to be pleasant about that,"
Jameson warned.
Alec looked at him, thought a moment, then said, "All right, there's no sense arguing about it here and now. We'll have to settle it between us when he gets here."
Jameson looked unconvinced, even slightly amused.
"I assume Kobol has some plan worked out for getting his thousands of troops here?"
"Indeed he does," Jameson said. "He's been studying terrestrial meteorology and he's come up with the irrefutable observation that it's warmer in the southern areas—where he is—than it is up here in the north."
"So?"
"So his plan is to follow the advance of springtime right up the countryside. He's already started to move northward, out of Florida and into some lovely swamplands the natives call Georgia. As the warm weather advances northward, Kobol plans to advance his men along with it, adding new recruits along the way."
"More men?"
"That's right," Jameson said. "He says that nothing suc
ceeds like excess."
"He stole that. It's a quotation from history."
Jameson's stern face showed surprise. "Really? He's been strutting around like he thought of it himself. But no matter who said it first, I think he's right. The more men we have, the more raiders and barbarians will want to join us. And the bigger the army we have to face Douglas, the easier it'll be to beat him."
Alec scuffed a toe on the snowbank where they stood. "It won't be easy to keep an army like that together. Those people aren't going to march more than a thousand klicks and maintain discipline. Why should they?"
"Some of them will. Maybe a lot of them will. Kobol's promised them all the loot and women they can carry, once they've beaten Douglas."
Alec finally understood. And thought of Angela.
"So we can expect Kobol's army to reach here just about the time the spring mud's dried and it's easy to move across country," Alec summarized.
"That's his plan."
"The timing's going to be important. He's got to arrive here just as the travelling turns good again. We've been able to survive so far because it's been more trouble for Douglas to hunt us down than we're worth to him. But when the travelling gets easy again, I don't think we can last very long. If Kobol waits a week or so too long, we could be dead when he gets here."
"I know."
Alec asked, "But does he?"
For a moment Jameson did not answer. His bird-of-prey expression was as emotionless as he could make it. Finally he said, slowly, "He understands your situation, and he'll get here in time. He wants to marry your mother and gain full control of the Council through her. He won't let you get killed. Not that way, at least."
Strangely, his words neither surprised Alec nor upset him. He hasn't told me anything I didn't already suspect.
"All right," Alec said quietly. "It's vital that Kobol and I meet face to face before his troops get here. I've got a nearly complete picture of Douglas's defenses. In another two weeks I'll fill in the few gaps in the information. Even with a big army, he'll need that intelligence."
"I know," Jameson said, a bit stiffly. "He sent me to get that information from you."
Alec shook his head. "No. I'll talk to Kobol and no one else."
Jameson said nothing, gave no hint of what he felt.
"It's more than relaying information on the defenses," Alec tried to explain. "There's the entire question of strategy . . . how we're going to attack Douglas. If you carry back the data I've amassed, Kobol will set up his battle plan before he gets here. That could be disastrous."
"Should I tell him that?"
Alec grinned. "Tell him whatever you like. But I must see him before his army reaches this far north. I'll leave it to you to arrange a time and place."
Jameson looked away from Alec, out across the snowy landscape, the bare patches of ground, the brilliant blue sky. "He won't try to kill you," he said softly, almost to himself. "But he might try to keep you under his eye ... a prisoner."
"You mean that a meeting with him might be a trap?"
Jameson said, "It could be."
"Can I depend on you to prevent that from happening?"
Swinging around to fix his hawk-like gaze on Alec, Jameson replied, "I'm only one man. He'll have plenty of others with him."
"I know," Alec said. "But if it comes to trouble, will you stand with me?"
For almost a minute, Jameson did not reply. At last he said, "You're still the officially-appointed commander of this expedition, and he's your deputy—by order of the Council." Then he relaxed enough to smile tightly. "I've served under him and I've served under you. If it comes to trouble — I'll stand with you."
Alec breathed out a sigh of relief and put his hand out to the bigger man. Jameson took it in his grip and let his smile broaden. It was like a glacier melting.
"We're both insane, you know," he said.
"I know," Alec answered. "I know."
The meeting was arranged, after several tedious discussions by radio. They agreed to meet on a boat in the upper Delaware River at a spot identified on the map as the Delaware Water Gap.
The term puzzled Alec until he saw the place.
The snow was melting fast under the early spring Sun and the ground was muddy and slow for travelling. Alec and four picked men made their way on horseback southward, following the maps. It took a week of hard travel.
On the fifth day, as they picked up the uppermost stream of the Delaware, they were joined by a fifth rider: Ferret. He trotted up alongside Alec's horse, an enormous gap-toothed grin on his pinched, wizened face. He was mud-spattered and filthy, but across the rump of his stringy mount were laid out a brace of game birds.
"Ferret!" Alec called to him, genuinely pleased to see him again. "Where have you been all winter?"
The scrawny young man shrugged. "Around. Huntin'. Mountains, mostly." He waved vaguely south-southwesterly.
"And how did you find us?"
Ferret scratched his jaw, grinned some more, mumbled something unintelligible. Alec didn't care. The strange character had ways of his own, and Alec felt better with him by his side. Ferret carried no gun; as far as Alec could tell he would be useless in a fight. But he could somehow snare game. They would eat better with him along.
The tiny group of horsemen made their way down the valley of the river, where the going was much easier. And once they reached the Water Gap, Alec saw at a glance what the name meant.
The Delaware cut between two high-shouldered mountains, slicing through layers of striated rock that had been laid bare by millions of years of the river's erosion.
There was a passable road along the base of the mountains, by the river's bank, the remains of an old paved highway. The cement was broken and covered with rubble, but the horses stepped over the litter easily enough and clopped along, making good time. It was an enormous relief after the rough going of the muddy countryside. Alec and his men kept wary eyes on the slopes rising above them and across the river. Good spots for ambush.
The trees and brush had not leafed out yet, however, so the ground was bare and difficult to hide in.
Ferret would disappear for most of the day, and then come back grinning happily with enough game to keep their stomachs full.
At the Gap's narrowest point they found a surprise: the graceful arch of a bridge that still stood, spanning the river with steel and concrete that did not even look particularly begrimed or weathered until they got quite close to it. Anchored at the base of one of the bridge's supporting pillars was a small power boat.
There can't be more than four or five men aboard a boat that size, Alec thought to himself as they nosed their horses down a trail that led to the water's edge. We won't be badly outnumbered — unless Kobol has other boats hidden further down the river.
The boat was close enough to the shore for Alec and two of his men to wade to its boarding ladder.
The rest of Alec's men, and two of Kobol's crew, stayed on the shore with the horses.
"Good to see you," Kobol said tonelessly as Alec climbed aboard. He looked thinner than the last time Alec had seen him: harder and leaner, with more lines in his face. He shifted a wooden cane to his left hand and put out his right. The hand felt leathery when Alec shook it. Kobol's eyes were still hooded, masked.
"The outdoor life seems to agree with you," he said, smiling toothily. "You've lost your baby fat."
Alec grunted a noncommittal reply as he glanced around the boat. The forward deck and the top of the cabin were covered with solar cells.
No guns were in sight, but something squat and bulky was covered by a tarpaulin at the boat's stern. A laser? he wondered.
With two of his own men preceding him, Kobol led Alec down into the cabin. Alec's two men took up the rear. He saw that Kobol leaned on the cane when he walked. They stepped down into a tight little compartment with foldup bunks locked against the bulkheads and an oversized table jammed between narrow padded benches. Atop the table was pinned a photomap of Do
uglas' base.
"We pieced this together from satellite photos,"
Kobol said, sitting down with an audible sigh between his two aides. He put the walking stick carefully by his side. "I think you'll find this map extremely accurate."
Alec slid into the bench on the opposite side of the table, flanked by his two men. He studied the map. The photos were very detailed; he could even make out Angela's house. What were we doing when this picture was taken? he wondered idly.
Another of Kobol' s men appeared at the hatchway, bearing a tray of sandwiches and brown bottles of beer.
"It's quite good," he told Alec, proferring a bottle. "Only slightly alcoholic. One of the first things the natives got running again in the Miami area was their brewery. They use half the wood in the region to keep the place supplied with power."
Alec sipped at it. It tasted sour and awful. The homebrew at Douglas's base was far better. He frowned, and Kobol said, with an air of superiority, "You have to develop a taste for it."
"I'd rather not."
"We have fresh milk," said a low voice.
Alec looked up and saw Jameson standing in the compartment's narrow hatchway. Suppressing a smile, Alec answered, "Fine. I'll take milk."
They spent several hours poring over the map.
Alec fitted in all the details he knew about Douglas's defenses until the map fairly bristled with inked-in lines representing fences, circles and squares that pinpointed watchtowers and firebases.
Kobol looked impressed. "We'll have to concentrate everything on one massive onslaught — straight up this major road." He swept his bony hand along the map.
"That's just what Douglas would expect," Alec countered. "He'll stop you here . . ." he pointed to a spot where the road snaked between firebase- topped hills, " ... or here, where the streams and lakes will force you into a narrow line of march."
Kobol tugged at his mustache. "He doesn't have the strength to stop us. We'll have nearly five thousand men by the time we get there."
"The defense always has at least a two-to-one edge," Alec quoted at him. "With someone as clever as Douglas you'll need every man you can get. Remember, he's been preparing these defenses for years. Why throw the men right into his guns?"